“Your scenes aren’t in it,” Wayne said. “You’re only on in the evening. Peter’s onstage all day, though, so he wouldn’t be able to come with us.”
“He wouldn’t be able to anyway,” I said. “Not if news cameras are going to be there. But I don’t know.”
“You’re thinking it’s all drag queens and leather costumes and dancers,” Wayne said with another smile. “It’s more like a street fair, with booths and music and lots and lots of the LGBT crowd. You’ll meet some cool people—people just like you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. It was a big offer, and saying no seemed rude. But it was weird.
“Think about it,” Wayne said. “And ask your dad. Do you have a phone?”
“I just got it.” I gave him the number, and he sent me a test text.
“Look, no pressure.” Wayne held up his hands. “Yes or no is cool. Have your dad call me if it’s a yes, and me and Jake will pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
“In the morning?” I squawked.
“It’s a long drive.” Wayne clapped me on the back. “Let me know.”
“Algy to the stage!” Iris shouted.
“Your cue, buddy.”
Bang bang bang.
I WAS loving theater. I loved the stage. I loved the lights overhead. I loved the smell of paint and wood. I even loved the director shouting at me. And Iris worked us hard.
“Don’t lose your accent!”
“Stay in character, even if something goes wrong!”
“Your words say you’re an English snob, but your body language says you’re an American teenager. Stiffen up. Posture, posture, posture!”
“Stage left is your left as you face the audience. And upstage is that way—away from me. Do it again.”
Peter and I glided and danced our way through the words of Oscar Wilde. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Peter, even when I wasn’t supposed to look at him, and Iris barked at me about it. Wayne stood offstage with his big arms crossed and waved a finger. I blushed and concentrated harder. My Algy shell spun tighter. For a moment the scuffed black floor, the harsh overhead lights, and the bang bang bang of hammers disappeared, and I was standing in the rose garden of a mansion with high windows. Peter was dressed in a long black coat.
“This Bunburying, as you call it, has not been a great success for you,” he said and stomped away.
“Good,” called a voice.
The moment faded and I was me again, inside my Algy shell. My mouth fell open for a moment, and I clapped it shut. That was awesome. I didn’t know theater could do that.
“Line, Algy,” Iris said, back where she’d been sitting from the beginning.
Don’t break character, no matter what. I kept Algy going and scrambled for the line.
“I think it has been a great success,” I said aloud to myself. “I’m in love with Cecily, and that is everything.”
“Enter Cecily!”
Meg came onstage with a watering can and mimed watering nonexistent roses. She was short and pretty, and I barely knew her. Then I remembered the script said I had to kiss her at the end of the scene. I shot Peter a glance. He had wandered offstage to watch, though Wayne would probably hand him a paint roller in a minute.
“Don’t break character, Algy,” Iris reminded.
Damn it.
“Remember, Cecily, you’re in love with Algy, but you think he’s someone else,” Iris said.
“Earnest,” Meg said. “I know.”
Peter looked away.
“Okay,” Iris said. “The script doesn’t say anything about how to play this scene, so let’s try it this way—you two are young kids newly in love. You haven’t even kissed yet, but you hate being apart. Jack doesn’t like you two being together, remember, so he’s trying to send Algy away, and this is an awful moment. But you’re still crazy about each other. Awful moment, crazy love. The words in the script don’t say that, so you have to punch them up with body language and tone.”
“And then you get to kiss,” Joe called from the painting area.
“Lucky,” said Ray.
Great.
The scene didn’t go well. Iris wanted us to be in love, but I couldn’t see how lines like “Your Rector here is, I suppose, thoroughly experienced in the practice of all the rites and ceremonials of the Church?” could be said like I was in love. It didn’t help when I was supposed to say, “He’s gone to order the dog-cart for me,” and I said dog-fart instead. Everyone within hearing died laughing, and it took forever for me and Meg to get back in character.
“I’m not hearing the love, Algy,” Iris called for the fourth time. “Look at Cecily.”
I did. She looked up at me, and I had to force myself not to squirm. It was hard enough to imagine a short Asian girl in England in the 1800s. I was—Algy was—supposed to love her. But when I read the script, I wanted Algy to run off with Jack. I’ll bet Oscar Wilde originally wanted to write it that way. The “About the Author” thing at the back of the script said he was sent to prison for being gay, which pissed me off.
Anyway, I looked at Meg—Cecily. She wore little pink shorts and a low red T-shirt and plastic sandals. Thad had a thing for her. What was that like?
“Now think of the greatest thing in your life,” Iris said, “whether it’s a person or a thing or a hobby. If you love baseball, think of baseball. If you love puppies, think of puppies.”
“Hey!” Meg said.
“Run with it,” Iris said.
“I don’t know what to think about,” I complained.
“You’ll find something,” Iris said. “We have an hour.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter watching us. Jeez. The answer was obvious. I looked down at Meg and pretended she was Peter.
“That’s it!” Iris said. “Perfect! Hold on to that expression. Now—you only have ten seconds before that… dog-cart is leaving. Don’t break character. Lean down, kiss her quickly and shyly, and dash out stage left. Go.”
I grabbed Meg’s face with my upstage hand, took her shoulder with the other, and kissed her quickly. But in my head, I was kissing Peter. Peter, who was handsome and kind and wanted me to be happy. Meg’s eyes widened, and she made a little sound. I had time to notice her lips were softer than Peter’s. Then I broke free and dashed away like Iris had said.
Meg stared after me for several moments like she’d been smacked on the head with a board. She said, “What an impetuous boy he is! I like his hair so much.”
“Yes!” Iris whooped.
And everyone else broke into applause.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Melissa asked me offstage. “Jeez, Kevin. You floored her.”
“I did?” I glanced at the stage, where Meg-as-Cecily was continuing the scene with Jack’s girlfriend, Gwendolen. “She was acting, right?”
“Yeah,” Melissa scoffed. “Acting. Meg’s good, but she’s not that good.”
“Kevin’s talented.” Peter wandered up at that moment and clapped me on the back. “He brings it out in everyone else.”
“So what did you think about?” Melissa said.
“Think about?”
“Yeah. Iris said to think about something you love so you could look like you love Cecily. You pulled it off. What were you thinking of?”
“Oh. Uh….” I looked at Peter, and right then he knew the answer. His face turned red. I said, “Ice cream. Lots of ice cream.”
ACT II: SCENE VII
KEVIN
REHEARSAL ENDED way early, and Iris kicked us out of the theater. “You need a break. I don’t want you burning out. Don’t study lines either.”
“Cast party at my place!” shouted Meg. “Bring suits—we have a pool.”
“What about your parents?” asked Krista.
“They won’t mind.” Meg was already texting. “Long as we don’t make a mess. Be there in half an hour.”
Everyone scattered, leaving me and Peter in the parking lot. “Should we go?” I asked.
<
br /> “You got something else to do?” Peter hopped into his car. “Come on.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit,” I objected.
“We’ll get a couple.” He eased out of the lot. Now that he’d been arrested, Peter drove a lot slower. “I still have some money.”
My no-money instincts kicked in. “Shouldn’t you save that?” I asked. “We already had ice cream today.”
“It’s just a couple of swimsuits.” His face was tight and his mouth was hard. “We’ll stop somewhere cheap. Let me do this for us, Kevin.”
“Peter, I’m not—”
“Let me do this, dammit!” he snarled.
I shrank away from him. “What the hell?”
“Just do this, Kevin.” His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “Right now I need normal, okay? I’m accused of murder, my parents have disowned me, and I don’t know what’s happening next. So right now I need to rehearse for a summer play and go to a pool party and buy a fucking swimsuit for my boyfriend. Okay? Can we do that?”
“Sure,” I said softly. “We can do that.”
He drove for a while, then said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just… I don’t….” His voice got thick. “I’m holding it together all during rehearsal, and now it’s all coming out. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I touched his knee. “It’s bad here behind the scenes. Just like Iris said.”
He rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “Yeah.”
“So… let’s get bathing suits with orange palm trees on them or something,” I said. “The last thing a couple of gay guys would get.”
“What kind of swimsuits would gay guys get?”
“I don’t know. Something with tidy little dolphins on them.”
Peter snorted. Then he snickered. Finally he laughed harder and harder until he was pounding the steering wheel and the car swerved a little.
“Hey!” I said, clutching the Jesus handle. You know—the handle you grab when you shout Jesus!
“Tidy little dolphins,” Peter snarked. “Oh my god! Awesome.”
“Okay.” I laughed with him. “It’s cool.”
“No matter what, we’ll always have the tidy little dolphins,” he said with a grin that melted me all the way through.
We looked for suits at a twenty-four-hour SavMart. They didn’t have tidy little dolphins, but they did have violent-orange palm trees that gave you a sunburn from looking at them. They were hideous, and we had to get them. Peter also grabbed stuff like a toothbrush and a comb and all that, along with some underwear and a couple of cheap changes of clothes. Neither of us mentioned why he needed these items.
“Did you know Wayne is gay?” I asked as we drove to Meg’s house.
“No shit! How did you find that out?”
I gave him a little summary of our conversation. Peter took it in silently. “He said there’s a Pride festival near Detroit tomorrow, and….” I hesitated, a little unsure of how Peter would react. Then I thought, what did it matter how Peter reacted? He didn’t own me. If I wanted to go somewhere, I could go, right? “He invited me with him and his boyfriend, Jake. To see what it’s like.”
“Isn’t that a little weird?” Peter asked.
“What do you mean, ‘weird’?”
“He barely knows you, but he’s asking you to a gay event with him.”
“With his boyfriend,” I said. “And he said himself he’s twice as old as I am. He’s not going to try anything.”
“Hmm.” Peter turned a corner.
I fiddled with my new bathing suit. The tag said Made by Slaves in China or something. “You still think it’s weird, don’t you?”
“I was wishing I could go,” Peter said. “But I can’t because I have rehearsal, and those Pride things always have reporters at them. ‘Come look at the fags!’”
“Is that what it’s about?”
He sighed. “No. At least I don’t think so. I’ve never been to one. You should go.”
“Really?” I coughed. “I mean, yeah. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Why not? Bring me back a souvenir.” He grinned again. “And stay away from the kissing booth.”
“They have a kissing booth?”
“You’re totally adorable when you’re naive.” He rumpled up my hair, and I leaned into his touch. “But text me pictures. If I can’t go, I can at least live through you.”
MEG’S HOUSE wasn’t as big as Peter’s, but it was big enough. Was everyone rich but me? I was kind of nervous. The last party I’d been to was the mailbox bash Hank had called. I didn’t want to be around beer and stuff again. It only made me think of Robbie.
Music thumped from behind a big privacy fence that surrounded the backyard, and a hand-lettered sign on the gate said Cast Party Come In!!!, so we went in.
It looked like just about everyone was there. Melissa was talking to Meg and Krista while Thad drank a Coke and watched Meg out of the corner of his eye. Even though it was evening, Charlene spread on sunblock. Joe and Ray splashed around in the pool, and I automatically sneaked a look at their builds. Ray was kind of soft, but Joe was kind of hot. There was a relaxed feel around the pool. Michigan summer days are really long, and we had lots of time to swim before sunset. Everything smelled of chlorine water and mellow sunscreen.
Meg waved at us. “Changing rooms are over there.”
We changed in a little booth. When Peter undressed, I glanced at what I’d been handling a little while ago. It made me feel fun and funny at the same time. Peter caught me at it and gave a silent grin. Then he elaborately turned his back.
“Unless you want me to watch,” he said.
I kind of did and kind of didn’t. I changed fast and tapped Peter on the shoulder. When he turned, I gave him a fast kiss and said, “Thanks.”
Outside the changing room, Meg called us over. She was wearing a teensy two-piece, and I had to work not to stare. Next to her on the ground was a cooler filled with ice and pop bottles, and one of those giant subs from a takeout place was carved into chunks on an umbrella table. I suddenly realized I was starving.
“Help yourselves,” Meg said. “We’re not formal in our Earnest little family.”
I grabbed a sandwich chunk. “Thanks. This is awesome, Meg. I love your house.”
“We’ll have a megaparty here later,” she said, “when we have more time to plan. My parents actually love having people over. They figure if I’m getting into trouble here, I won’t get into trouble somewhere else.”
“Got that right.” A woman with Meg’s features but with graying hair came out of the house with two big bags of chips. “I have enough trouble in my life.”
Meg elaborately stuck her tongue out at her mom, who tore the chips open and set them on the table.
“Where’s your lawyer?” Melissa asked Peter.
Peter cracked open a bottle. “Even lawyers need downtime.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to go anywhere without him or something,” Melissa said.
“Ducking!” Peter shouted. He grabbed me by the waist, flung me over his shoulder, and jumped into the pool. Water exploded in all directions and went up my nose.
Peter let go and I surfaced, blowing water like a tidy little dolphin.
“You bastard,” I said and splashed him.
“Hey!” said Joe, who was caught in the crossfire. He splashed back.
That touched off a water war with me, Peter, Ray, and Joe. At first the girls didn’t want to join in, but finally they did, and we all ended up in the pool, even Thad. It was so much fun. I don’t swim much, and it was just awesome being with the cast. They laughed and chattered and talked with me. I’d only known them for a little while, but we were already friends. Wow.
I lay on my back and floated a little. For a while I could just be Kevin Devereaux. Not Kevin who was attacked or Kevin who beat up a kid or Kevin the semisecretly gay guy. Just Kevin.
A while later Thad said to Peter, “What’s going on with the murder investigatio
n?”
I tensed, and all the fun went out of the cast party. A cloud even went over the sun.
“I’m not supposed to talk about that,” Peter said.
“Aw, come on,” Thad said. “This is us. Who are we going to tell? Are you going to jail?”
“Thad,” Melissa said.
“What?” Thad said. “We have to talk about it. What if he has to leave the play?”
“Thad,” Charlene said.
“It’s okay.” Peter hauled himself to the edge of the pool. Water streamed down his back and glistened in the sun. “Look, I didn’t kill Les, okay? I’m not lying about that.”
“Why were you at Les’s apartment?” Thad pressed.
A cold fist punched me in the gut. I hunched down until I was neck deep in the water. “Don’t talk about it, Peter. You might get into trouble.”
Peter opened his mouth to say something, and the fist in my stomach turned colder. Then he seemed to change his mind. “I really can’t talk about it, guys. I wish I could because I’m scared that you don’t trust me or like me. But the evidence the cops have is totally circumstantial. They don’t have any proof—because there isn’t anything to prove. I didn’t kill Les. Come on. You guys have been in a dozen plays with me. You know me.”
“We didn’t know you were a Morse,” Joe said.
Peter kind of laughed. “Okay, you got me there. I kept that back because I didn’t want people to think I got cast because my family basically built the Art Center. Not even Iris knew.”
“So how rich are you?” Thad asked intently. I wondered at the interest and realized I didn’t know all that much about Thad. He and Joe were brothers, and they lived with their mother—I knew that—and Thad had a thing for Meg, but that was about it.
“Being the rich guy is what I’m trying to get away from.” Peter kicked some water in Thad’s direction, and everyone laughed a little.
“So all you guys have been in plays together before?” I asked to change the subject.
“Pretty much,” Melissa said. She looked very pretty—the blonde pool bunny—and it seemed weird she was playing an old lady in the play. “Except Ray. He’s new.”
The Importance of Being Kevin Page 16